I'll Be Home For Christmas
by Don't Mess With Aria
Summary: After the Reapers, Shep and Garrus spend their first Christmas together. Happy Christmas times, no seriousness, no continuity needed, author trying to avoid spoilers. For the Advent challenge.
1. December 1st

AN: This would be set after the Reaper invasion in 3, but it's not really a part of any continuity or anything. Just fun little bits of Shep and Garrus's first Christmas together. There may be minor spoilers, but I'm trying to avoid them.

* * *

December 1st

"Come on, Shep, let me help you up."

"For the millionth time, I am _fine,_ Garrus." Shepard pushed him away slightly so she could get herself out of the hospital bed, shuffling over to the bag he'd brought her civvies in.

"Do humans always get hospitalized for being fine?" His tone was snide, but it was good to hear it. He'd been so damn _careful_ with her, lately. "Let me at least carry you out to the air-car. We don't have shoes for you, and I don't want you to catch a chill."

"Any excuse to get your talons back on me, huh?" Shep asked.

"Sure, Shep. Not like I actually want to avoid watching you die, for the third time. Eventually, you run out of chances, you know."

"I know. I just wish the others-"

"Hey. No," Garrus whispered, kneeling by her as she crouched by the bag, clean tank top pressed against her face. "Shep, you did absolutely everything you could. No one had any right to expect you to do it, let alone without losses. It's okay, Shep. Please."

"Where are you taking me, anyway?" Shepard asked. Her face was dry, already; if Garrus hadn't just seen her break down, he would never have believed it happened.

"I found a place. Wait 'til you see it. You'll love it."

"I love _you,"_ Shep countered.

"Love you, too, Shep."


	2. December 2nd

December 2nd

"Good morning, Shep," Garrus trilled. Shepard stretched where she was in the king-size bed and snorted laughter into her hand, turning it into a yawn when he glanced at her sharply. Somewhere, somehow, the big turian had found an apron. It came to about mid-thigh, it was pink, and he didn't appear to be wearing anything under it.

"That's quite an apron, big guy. Did you lose your other clothes?" Shep asked.

"Turians don't tend to wear much in the home. But I know how you humans sometimes feel about cooking naked, for some reason."

"I think that might be more an issue with people who have tiny little hairs right at stove-level."

"You mean the- ewww, Shep. Why would you tell me that?" Garrus pulled a face, nearly dropping the breakfast tray he was carrying.

"Well, you seemed to be asking why."

"I wasn't. Are you going to be nice, or shall I go toss your breakfast out?"

"I'll be nice." Shepard sat up in bed, tucking the blanket down around her waist. "What'd you bring me?"

"French toast, bacon, waffles, orange juice, pancakes, cocoa-"

"Oh, my god, you found cocoa? With marshmallows, too?" Shep grabbed the mug, greedily downing the chocolate-and-marshmallow soup. It was the little luxuries you missed most in wartime, she had found.

"Not to mention, the French toast, waffles, pancakes, cereal…." Garrus's mandibles were flailing slowly.

"Garrus, it looks perfect. Just, you know. Maybe next time, don't make _all _the carb options for one meal."

"Well, I followed this food pyramid thing… it said you need eleven of these a day."

"Tell you what… I'll clear my plate, if you promise to help me work off all these calories…." Her hand crept up his thigh, edging towards the apron strings at his waist.

Garrus scrambled away from her. "No, you don't. You're on bed rest."

"Are you really telling me 'no?'"

"Until you are one hundred percent better, I am telling you 'no.'" Garrus stood in the doorway, now, having left the tray with her.

"Come on, sit with me. I'll behave," Shep promised. Garrus approached warily, not trusting the twinkle in her eye. But how could he say no to Shep, now that she was finally, definitely his and neither of them had been killed this time?


	3. December 3rd

December 3rd

"What the hell are _you _doing out of bed?" Garrus demanded. He stood by the stove, wearing his adorably short pink apron again. She had no idea what he was cooking, but it smelled divine.

"Are you really cooking everything from scratch like this, two meals at a time? You know you can't eat human food, right?"

"Oh, gee, Shep, can't I? I had no idea. Thank the spirits you're here to tell me these things."

"What is that?" Shepard asked, coming closer to the stove.

"Don't look. I want you to guess. Hold still. Can you smell it?" Eyes closed, Shep could feel the pot coming closer, and could almost identify the smell.

"Not quite, but maybe…."

"Hang on." Garrus started stirring, and Shepard gasped; she hadn't heard that sound since Mindoir.

"Macaroni and cheese, are you kidding me?"

"I knew you'd love it. You love the worst foods, you know. I could take you to the fanciest restaurant left standing, but why would I, when you're just as pleased by food that came dry in a box?"

Shepard leaned up on her tip-toes to kiss Garrus on the cheek.

"Now, are you really feeling up for being out of bed? I have plans, but only if you're ready for them. This is a first for us, you know. A real milestone."

"Which milestone is that?"

"It's our first Christmas," Garrus whined, looking hurt.

"How am I supposed to guess that? You're turian, you don't even celebrate Christmas."

"Well, the next big turian holiday isn't for months. So, we're going to build snowmen, and bake gingerbread houses, and trim trees, and every silly little ritual there is. I'm going to shower my bondmate with presents, too."

"Do I get a choice in this?" Shepard boosted herself onto the counter, stealing the serving spoon to start eating mac and cheese right out of the pot.

"Not even slightly."


	4. December 4th

December 4th

"What the hell, Garrus? What is this?" Shepard smelled the contents of the glass, completely mystified by the frothy yellow mixture within.

"It's eggnog. It's traditional."

"I can't drink it, then. Traditional turian drinks will kill me."

Garrus rolled his eyes as best he could. "It's traditional for _your _people, Shepard. I made my own a little differently, with dextro stuff. Just try it."

"I will not," Shepard grumbled.

"Are you afraid of a little drink?" Garrus's chin lifted, challenging her.

Shepard grabbed the glass, downing the contents in one go. Her head whipped forward as she coughed. "What's in that stuff?"

"Well… yours is mostly rum," Garrus admitted. "I had a feeling you wouldn't like the whole egg-and-cream-"

"What now?"

"Nothing. Just a normal drink."

"You are trying to get me drunk, bigguy, aren' you?" Shep slurred.

"Just a little tipsy, maybe. It's been a while since you've unwound."

"Gimme 'nother."

"Shep, are you sure? I thought you didn't like it?"

"'quired taste."

Garrus gave up, mixing her another "egg nog," in reality just plain rum, now, with a dash of the original drink thrown in.


	5. December 5th

December 5th

"What happened?" Shep asked groggily.

"Let's just say I won't be making you eggnog again anytime soon." Garrus sat on the edge of their bed, playing with his visor.

"What did I do? You're watching it now, aren't you?" Shepard dove for him, but he was already up, out the bedroom door, and downstairs. Shepard followed after him, still unsteady from the long months in bed at the hospital.

"Garrus, when I catch you, I swear to God-"

"_IIII'LLLLL be HOOOOME for Chrimmas…."_

"What is that sound?" Shepard asked, dreading the answer.

"Well, it's either the murdered cats brigade, or that's you singing after half a bottle of rum."

"_YOOOOUUU can COOOOOUNT on MEEEEEEE…."_

"Turn it off," Shep shrieked, jumping on Garrus. Her legs went around his waist as she tried to yank the visor away from him, to stop it playing on the big TV. He held her away easily, and began to croon the song back at her, dancing her around the room.

"If on-leee in… my dreams…." he sang.


	6. December 6th

December 6th

"Shep, come on, I have a surprise for you," Garrus called up the stairs.

"I would be done already, if you hadn't told me my hair has to be bone-dry. It takes a while with curls, you know." Shepard had to shout over the hair-dryer.

"Just hurry up."

When Shep finally trotted down the stairs, she stopped cold on the third-to-last tier. Garrus was holding a heavy overcoat, scarf, and boots.

"Does this mean what I think it does? You're finally letting me loose?"

"Don't get too excited, Shep. I'm letting you out of the house, as long as you don't overdo it."

Shepard immediately started yanking the clothes on, not minding whether they went on straight. "So, what has Officer Vakarian got planned for the sixth day of Christmas?"

Garrus's mandibles twitched in annoyance. "It's not the sixth day of Christmas, it's… oh, never mind. You should know your own people's holidays, though."

"Fine. I'll get right on that. What are we doing?"

"Snowmen."

With Shepard finally dressed, the pair raced outside. The snow was thick on the ground, nearly to Shepard's knees. Garrus had already gathered huge piles of snow together for them to build their snowman.

"I don't want a traditional snowman, I want a snowkrogan."

"Come on, Shep, after all this work, you're taking away the tradition? You know I've-"

Garrus stopped short as a snowball to the face interrupted him. "Oh, you're dead now, Shep." His voice had gone low and fake-dangerous, and Shepard fled before him, ducking as he pelted snowballs at her retreating back. She waited until he was out of ammo, then turned on him, sending snow missiles flying back at him. Eventually, he caught her, tackling her to the soft blanket of snow and kissing her gently on the lips.

"I love you so much, Shep."

"I love you, too, Garrus. You know that."


	7. December 7th

December 7th

"Deck! The halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, la la la la."

_The hell? S_hep wondered.

"Tis! The season to be jolly, fa la la la la, la la la la."

_It is three o'clock in the morning! _Shep grumbled silently, looking at the clock. She crawled out of bed, into the hallway, where Garrus appeared to be torturing little strings of lights into submission while singing under his breath.

"_Don _we now our _gay _apparel-"

"Don our what now?" Shepard asked. Garrus jumped, then flared his mandibles wide in a grin.

"Make fun of me all you want. I wanted lights, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Fa la la, la la la, la la la."

"Troll the ancient yuletide carol," they both sang.

"Fa la la la la, la la la la." Shepard finished alone as Garrus stared at her.

"I didn't know you could actually sing."

"Well, when you're not pumping me full of liquor. Where's the ladder? Let me help with the lights."

"You're bonded to a turian; we don't need a ladder. Sit down and sing to me."

Shepard settled by his feet, trying to remember one of the songs she knew as a child.

"Oh, holy night… the stars were brightly shining…."


	8. December 8th

December 8th

"Garrus, get your spiky butt down here!" Shepard yelled.

"Isn't it a little early for racism?" Garrus called from upstairs.

"Come on, it's the first day I'm up first, I have a surprise for you." Shepard stop shouting abruptly as Garrus appeared in the doorway. "You need to make noise when you move."

"Pssh. I have to live with a Spectre, I'll take every advantage I can get."

"Close your eyes." Shep grinned at him, standing in front of the stove so he couldn't see what she was working on.

"Why?" Garrus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Is this payback for me winning the snowball fight?"

"Close your eyes."

"Fine," he said, closing his eyes. "I just want you to know that I _trust _you, Shep, so I know you wouldn't betray me."

Shepard placed a small bite of her project in Garrus's mouth.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Caramel popcorn. Very traditional. And safe for turians, I checked."

"It's good. What is it, again?"

"Just eat the damn popcorn," she mock-growled, rising up on her toes so he could take her in his arms and kiss her. His hands slid around to find that she wasn't wearing any pants.

"I thought you humans had rules against naked cooking," Garrus rumbled.

"I'm wearing the damn apron, aren't I?"


	9. December 9th

December 9th

"Stand up straight," Garrus grumbled.

"Just take the holo faster," Shep returned, tugging at the short velour skirt part of her costume.

"Look, you can't be Mrs. Claus and slouching."

"She is thousands of years old. I'm pretty sure I have better posture."

"Be sexy Mrs. Claus," Garrus ordered.

"Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds?"

"That's it. I'm just setting it to take as many pictures as it can. Come here." Garrus left the holocamera standing to chase Shep around the tree they had trimmed earlier. She dodged, but he caught her, held her pressed up against him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Santa is _so_ creepy, Garrus."

"Shut up and kiss me," he growled, leaning in as the camera flashed over and over again.


	10. December 10th

December 10th

"Shepard, watch out!" Garrus leapt across the table to prop up the side of her gingerbread house. The weight of the extra frosting, gumdrops, and little chocolate candies had led to cracks across its roof, causing the whole thing to try to collapse.

"Shep, you're not supposed to overload it like that. Look at mine."

"You can make yours however you want. I'm eating mine, and it's going to be full of candy." Shep squeezed the frosting bag again, adding another layer to the candy construct that could no longer be fairly called a gingerbread house.

"You're not supposed to eat it right away. We're supposed to display it."

"Then we'll display yours." Shep waited until Garrus looked down to try to get his hands out of the falling gingerbread mess, then reached forward to squeeze frosting onto his flat nose.

"Hey," he protested. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I've got too much frosting on the house, right? Might as well start frosting some other things I'll be nibbling on today."

"You'd better watch it, Shep. This already isn't bed rest, you know."

"I think I'll be fine," she said, climbing over the table and into Garrus's lap.


	11. December 11th

December 11th

Shep sat curled up against Garrus on the couch, huge down-filled blanket over them both as the fire Garrus had built purred in the grate.

"This is nice," Shep murmured, and Garrus pressed his forehead against hers. It was still difficult to get used to her being both alive and well. Not to mention the fact that no one was hunting any of them down, anymore.

"It is nice," he agreed.

"No holiday tradition today?" she asked.

"What about the yule log?"

Shepard snorted. "No one does that anymore."

Garrus fetched a dramatic sigh. "And after all the work I did to get the fire going nice. Stay here, I'll go get some chestnuts to set on fire."

He started to get up, but Shep clung to him, keeping him with her on the couch.

"No, this is fine. Stay with me."

"Always," Garrus whispered, stroking her hair as she drifted to sleep in his arms.


	12. December 12th

December 12th

"Wait here," Garrus said. He placed her hand on the four-foot-tall gate after he scooted through it. "Wait here," he repeated.

"I'll wait. What's going on?"

"Just wait here."

Shepard waiting as Garrus crunched through the snow, disappearing into the little barn that had come with the property. What the hell was he doing?

_And why do I hear jingling?_

"Garrus?"

Just when Shep had decided to give up waiting, she saw movement at the barn door. A moment later, Garrus was driving a sleigh out into the paddock, pulled by two reindeer. He pulled up next to her, the reindeer's breath puffing heavily in the air.

Shepard backed away a few steps, pawing for the gun she no longer carried. "What the hell is this?"

"Sleigh ride. Very traditional. I checked." Garrus was grinning. She wanted to be happy about this for him. But who brought giant, mindless animals out and expected it to be fine?

"No, no, no, no, no."

"Shepard, what's wrong?"

"You bought these, these, _things, _and what, I'm supposed to trust them?"

"Let me get this straight. You've fought the Reapers. You've fought a Thresher Maw on foot. You're ready to go toe-to-toe with any species in the galaxy, tell the Council off to their faces, you are sleeping with a turian, but you're afraid of reindeer? Children ride these things."

"Look at their _eyes." _Shepard shuddered. You couldn't tell what they were thinking. She'd take any species with a translator over these things.

"This is why you kept killing your fish, isn't it? You secretly hate animals." Garrus sighed. "Go back inside, Shep. I'll get these guys set up, and we'll do some Christmas crackers. Unless, of course, the noise will spook you?"

"Come on, Garrus, don't be mad. I'm allowed a weakness, aren't I?"

"I'm not mad. Let me just put them away. I'll have someone pick them up tomorrow. Go inside, love." Garrus kept his hand on the closer reindeer as he worked with the harness, starting to undo the bell part. Shepard moved quickly before she could lose her nerve, scrambling up the gate and landing in the sleigh with a small thud.

"What are you doing, Shep?"

"Sleigh ride. It's traditional."

Garrus didn't say anything, just climbed up beside her and drove the reindeer around in a slow circle. Shep started curled into a ball by his feet, but eventually was able to sit up and actually look at the monsters pulling them.

"Not too bad," she decided.

"Not bad at all," Garrus agreed, unable to do anything but admire her, his bondmate. He had thought her fearless, once. Now he knew for certain that she just chose to ignore fear. "Ready to go in yet?" he asked.

Shepard shook her head. "Not yet. I want to drive them a little."


	13. December 13th

December 13th

"Dammit, Shep, would you just open the damn thing?" Garrus held the brightly wrapped package out to her. He loved taking care of her and doing things for her, but did she have to make it all so difficult?

"You're getting cranky. Exactly how long are we supposed to stay here? I'm better. I don't need more bed rest. I need to be out there, doing stuff."

Garrus sighed, imbuing the sound with all the sarcasm and frustration he could manage. "If you would just open the damn present, it would help with that."

"Really?" Shep finally relented, taking the gift box and setting it in her lap. "Even though it's not tradition to open presents this early?" She lifted the box to her ear, but Garrus grabbed her wrist, immobilizing it.

"Don't shake it, Shep. Just don't."

Perplexed now, Shep set the package back on her lap and began unwrapping it. She hesitated before reaching into the pile of tissue paper within.

"It won't bite, Shep. At least, it won't bite you."

"That's very reassuring, big guy." She plunged her hand through the paper and gasped when she felt the present.

"You didn't!" She pulled the brand-new pistol out of the box with her left hand, using her right to shred the tissue that clung to it. This was the first gun she had held in months; most of her weaponry had ended up either destroyed or missing in the final battle. "This is a Copperhead. This isn't even available yet!" She ran her hand along the top, where the black gun was set off with bronze.

Garrus lifted his chin, a gesture reminiscent of preening, somehow. "Didn't I tell you it would help? Now we can go shoot stuff."


	14. December 14th

December 14th

"Hey, this isn't a sideboard," Shep muttered.

"What's that?" Garrus called from the kitchen.

Shepard stared clearing the junk off what she had thought was just a useless piece of furniture, and finally lifted the fall to uncover the familiar black-and-white pattern of her childhood. She touched a few keys, bringing Garrus out of the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, mixing bowl in hand.

"What's that, Shep?"

"It's a piano."

"You play?"

Shepard shrugged. "I used to. On Mindoir, as a child." Garrus's mandibles went a little slack, and Shep knew what he had to be thinking. It was the first time she had mentioned Mindoir in any context without it hurting her.

"Play for me," Garrus suggested.

Shep shook her head, but her hand absently picked a few notes out anyway. "It needs to be tuned."

"I'll get someone out here tomorrow," he promised.

"I don't know if I remember the lyrics," Shep demurred, but her hand was still finding those airy little notes. Finally she slid onto the bench, both hands finding their places, and began to play.

"It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old…."

Garrus sat down on the couch to listen to her, completely forgetting about the cookies he was making. He couldn't help it; he had never expected such a sweet sound could be produced by his Shep, his little carnage in a tiny suit of armor. It was entrancing to see what else she was.

"O ye beneath life's crushing load,  
Whose forms are bending low,  
Who toil along the climbing way  
With painful steps and slow;  
Look now, for glad and golden hours  
Come swiftly on the wing;  
Oh rest beside the weary road  
And hear the angels sing."


	15. December 15th

December 15th

"Well, why won't you?" Garrus asked.

_Petulant, _Shepard thought. _You sound petulant, Garrus. _She didn't say it, though. That was kind of a compromise, right?

"Because it's a tradition for children. Not for adults. Adults who fight wars. Come on, Garrus-"

"So, you're so terrified of acting a little childlike-"

"Hey! I am on to you, big guy. That is not going to work on me anymore."

Garrus stuck his tongue out at her briefly. Shepard didn't laugh. She knew he was just going to find a different angle of attack. She needed to stay on her guard.

He dropped his head, then looked up at her sadly. "It's just that it's my first Christmas, and all."

"Don't do that. That's not fair."

"I mean, I've never gotten to do the tree, and the presents, and all that. I just want to have a traditional Christmas with you." Finally he lifted his head a little, and Shepard saw his jaw was trembling slightly.

"You cheating bastard. Fine, I'll do it."

Mandibles spread wide in a grin; she knew he'd been faking. But she'd already agreed. He ushered her over to the kitchen table, giving her some paper and a pencil.

"Remember to tell Santa _everything _you want, okay?"


	16. December 16th

December 16th

"Look what I what won," Garrus called, bursting through the door.

Shep rolled off the couch, still half-asleep, brandishing the remote as a weapon.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

Shepard shrugged, forcing her fingers to release the remote. "Nothing. Just napping. What is this?"

Garrus proudly held aloft a turkey that looked to be roughly twenty-five pounds. "I won it. In the raffle."

Shep shook her head. "So many questions," she muttered.

"It's-" Garrus started.

"Traditional," she interrupted. "Weird, though." She squinted at him. "They do say your people started out as some kind of avian creature. Wouldn't think you'd want to cook a turkey."

"You are not trying to tell me you think I resemble one of these." He dropped the turkey heavily into her arms, playing at being offended.

"I dunno… maybe not a turkey, specifically. But what about those birds of paradise? With the big crests? And they're always _preening,_ you know."

"I do not preen! And at least I'm not descended from pyjacks." Garrus stalked away into the kitchen, leaving Shep to carry the turkey.

"Yeah, but I'm not eating any pyjacks."

He grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'll cook you a pyjack."

"What's that, big guy?"

"I said, I won't be eating any turkey, either."

"Then why did you bring home thirty pounds of it?" She had revised her estimate of its weight as she tried to keep her hospital-weakened arms from dropping it.

Garrus took it from her, setting it on the stove. "I told you, it's"-

"Traditional," she finished again. "I'm surprised you haven't gone in for the mistletoe. That one's a big tradition, you know."

"But I can kiss you whenever I like," he reasoned, demonstrating the ability with a chaste peck on the lips.

"That isn't a mistletoe kiss, though."

"Don't worry. I'll be putting mistletoe in some, ah, strategic places when you're feeling better."


	17. December 17th

AN: Sorry they're getting a little cranky. Enclosed space, nothing to shoot, you know. I think this is the last bit of sniping at each other, though. Just fluffy sweetness from here on out.

* * *

December 17th

Shep woke to the maddening _jingle-jingle-jingle_ of someone thinking they were entirely too cute.

"Give me that. Now," she demanded. She had sprinted downstairs and corned Garrus in the kitchen a moment later. Now she stood in front of him, hand held out.

"Give you what?"

"You are wearing jingle bells. You must stop." Something under her left eye twitched, causing little flickers on her vision as the eyelid tried repeatedly to close.

"But I _like _them," Garrus whined.

Shep's free hand crept to her forehead, trying to rub away the headache there. She remembered her least favorite part of Christmas, now. Mindoir has been one of the early human settlements, and they had been _big_ on certain things. Since so many of the settlers were from the western hemisphere, one of those big things had been American-style Christmas, an event which was so much more about the trappings than anything else.

Trappings like jingle bells.

"Garrus. I can only make so merry. If you insist on jingling all day for the next-" Shepard checked her omni-tool- "seven days, I will murder someone. And you're the only one here."

"_Fine,"_ he finally grumbled. He removed various jingling accoutrements, including a belled Santa hat, jingling necklace, and clip-on earrings.

Shep stared at them. "You do know you don't have ears, right? These are _ear_rings. What'd you even clip them on?"

"I like them. I clipped them on my crest."

"You know they're for girls, right?"

"You keep them."

Shepard shook her head as she left the kitchen, Garrus still calling after her.

"Maybe you can wear them when you're out of your foul mood," he yelled.


	18. December 18th

SPOILERS! There are a couple spoilers here that were unavoidable. But they're straight from canon. I've already edited the rest of the spoilers, mostly concerning who makes it through 3 in my version. After I get the third installment up, I'll correct this version.

* * *

December 18th

Shepard looked around to see the familiar dead black trees.

_Oh, not again._

She tried to run, but it felt again like someone had turned the gravity all the way up. Shapes stood in the thick fog, and Shep moved away from them. She didn't want to do this again. She was done with this.

"Not too bad, skipper," Ash's voice said. That was weird.

_It's usually a little more accusatory than that, _Shep mused. She kept running- really just lifting her knees in exaggerated motions while her body barely glided forward- and tried to aim for an area thinner in fog, and more sparse in the damn talking shadows.

She saw all of them; all her old crew. Everyone she had failed in her mission against the Reapers. Too many to count.

Mordin Solus solidified out of the fog in front of her.

_He's not all black and inky. He should be black and inky._

Shepard tried to backpedal, but momentum kept her floating forward until she bumped lightly into Mordin, who caught her by the shoulders and stood her up straight.

"Shepard, you did well. You were the right one to do it, you know. After all…" Mordin smiled, and Shep knew what he would say. She finished the sentence with him.

"Someone else might have gotten it wrong."

"What's that, Shepard?" Garrus asked. Shep lifted her head from the pillow, noting that both it and her face were damp.

"Shep, are you crying? What's wrong?" He dropped the tablet he'd been working with to reach out to Shepard. For once, she accepted the comfort, sliding into his lap.

"Nothing's wrong, Garrus. Nothing at all." She curled up against his chest, a small smile curving her lips even though her face was still wet.


	19. December 19th

December 19th

Shepard lay curled up on the couch, snuggling into Garrus's warmth.

_You have to love being able to sleep on a turian when it's cold out._ She snorted a laugh into his chest and he looked at her questioningly.

"Nothing, big guy. Never mind."

"You and your inside jokes. You know a real joke requires at least two people, right?" he asked dryly.

Shepard ignored this, choosing instead to rub her face on his skin, loving the feel and the scent and the... _there-ness _of him. He was here, with her. The war was over. Outside, the wind may be shrieking, threatening to knock down the farmhouse and eat them with icy teeth, but in here, it was warm. In here, it was just them. No people needing something from them. No duties that kept taking them away from important moments.

No emergencies.

_I could get used to this._


	20. December 20th

December 20th

Garrus watched his Shep as she dreamed beside him. He almost couldn't believe it. He had gone after Saren not expecting to make it back home. That was years ago. They'd been through the Collectors and the Reapers since then, not to mention the truly uncountable waves of mercenaries, slavers, pirates, and anyone else in the galaxy stupid enough to cross Shepard. Sure, she'd died once or twice, but that couldn't stop her. Nothing could.

Shepard shifted in her sleep, looking for warmth, and Garrus settled her against himself. It was amazing that they even worked. Once you got the armor off her, Shepard was all smooth curves and soft skin. Nothing like his unforgiving angles and -what had she called it?

_Sandpaper, _he remembered. His sandpaper scales in some places, that they had to be careful with. But they were. He hadn't hurt her, and it was his most important calling to make sure he never did. Not in bed, not in anything he said to her.

Garrus placed a hand on her flat belly, suddenly wishing he could be the one to put a child there. He wanted everything. He wanted to get his Shep pregnant, to watch as she grew softer and clumsy, and eventually brought _his _child into the world. He let the fantasy run for a few minutes before he dashed it. It wasn't even the species issue. Garrus knew all her looks. She had said they might adopt someday, but she hadn't meant it. She'd thought she had, but really she hadn't.

_Even this, I do for you, love. _He growled lightly, letting his harmonics tell the story of his love for her.

Shepard murmured in her sleep, smiling, and Garrus couldn't help smiling in return, mandibles wide. She wasn't supposed to be able to hear his truest words of love, but he'd caught her at it several times already. If it was quiet, and she wasn't distracted, she could just barely catch some of it.

_I love you, Shep. I love you forever,_ he told her, inaudible to almost any human he could have tried.

"Love you too, big guy," she mumbled.

It was enough.


	21. December 21st

December 21st

"What _is _this holo?" Garrus complained.

"Shut it. First of all, it's a _movie_. Very old. Secondly, you wanted tradition, and this is it. You're not allowed to have Christmas without watching _It's a Wonderful Life."_

"It's _not _wonderful. It's _awful."_

"Eat your popcorn," Shep said, tossing a handful at his face. Then ensued a brief war, with fluffy popcorn bits flying everywhere, until Garrus managed to get her pinned, wrists in front of her, Shep seated on his lap.

"Feed me," he said, letting one of her wrists free. Popcorn had quickly become their favorite food, since Shep had checked and found out it was perfectly safe for turians. It was the first thing they'd found that they could both eat easily. Such a minor thing, that every other couple in the galaxy took for granted. Just being able to eat something together.

"This movie would have been a lot shorter if it was about you," Garrus commented some time later.

"I'm trying to wa- wait, what do you mean?"

"'What would things have been like without the Shepard? Reapers.' The end."

Shep threw an entirely-too-soft elbow back into his chest. Garrus pretended to "oof" and let her go. He let her believe she was winning for a minute, then pinned her underneath him on the couch.

"I wonder if you can guess where I've hidden that mistletoe?" he asked.


	22. December 22nd

AN: Author here. CyanB has pointed out that the author was remiss in not having our happy couple watch _Die Hard_ for Christmas. So, I am here pointing out that they did. Garrus thought it was much better than the other movie, although he thinks it would also be shorter if Shep were in it.

* * *

December 22nd

Garrus was gentle. It had been a long time, but nothing could make him forget the bluish cast to her skin, the lifelessness of her body when he had pulled it from the rubble. Blood and an oily something had coated half her face, and his sensitive hearing could pick up the sound of ribs grinding inside her chest, no matter how carefully he had tried to move her. He had thought she was done.

Now, as she moved under him, he worried. He knew her ribs couldn't be quite healed yet. He knew she must be in some pain, but she'd never show it. He tried to be gentle.

But spirits, how he'd wanted her. And hearing her say that she wanted him….

Well, how could he say no to Shep?


	23. December 23rd

December 23rd

Cold morning sunlight streamed in through the windows. Shepard stretched languidly, sprawled across Garrus.

"Someone slept well," Garrus commented.

"How could I not?"

"You're not having any more nightmares."

Shep looked up at him. It was still difficult to read turian expressions, but she could read Garrus. Not like a book; she hated books. She could read him like… like…

_Never mind. I can read him, that's all._ And what she read now looked like barely-healed grief. She knew he had grieved for her since she'd first told him about Mindoir. What she hadn't known was how deeply it must have hurt him. That, he had hidden from her. He always tried to keep things easy for her. Which was impossible, given what they'd been dealing with over the past years… but Garrus never added to the load. Any time she looked to him, he would shoulder more than his fair portion of the burden, always trying to make it better for her.

"No more reason for nightmares," she told him, kissing him on his nose where the colony markings crossed it.


	24. Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve

"You'd better not shoot my reindeer," Garrus drawled over the comm.

"Stop trying to draw me out, Vakarian," Shep hissed back. She knew he was somewhere by the barn, trying to lead her into a trap. She had no interest in the reindeer, she didn't want to go anywhere _near _the reindeer, and he knew that. So, he was trying to lure her into thinking that because he knew she hated the damn deer, that she'd be safe in the barn. But Shepard knew better. If it was obvious that she'd never go to the barn, then clearly, that's where she would hide; so she knew Garrus knew that, too. Therefore, the barn would _not _be safe, since that's where Garrus was laying his trap.

Unless he knew she was thinking all of that, and was trying to lure her away from the barn….

She wondered where Garrus had gotten these things. They seemed like normal guns, maybe a little lighter. And a lot smaller than anything she'd feel comfortable carrying. But instead of killing people, they just left a little spot of washable paint on the victim's clothes. He had tried to tell her that tournaments with these things were another holiday tradition, but Shep wasn't buying that at all. No one wanted to shoot their friends and family at Christmas, after all. Shep was the odd man out on that, she was sure.

After watching the barn for a while, Shep was finally convinced that if he knew that she knew that he would be planning a trap there, then he must not have. She approached silently and opened the door.

To find Garrus standing just inside, the barrel of his gun pointed at her stomach.

"Take the shot," she told him.

A stain spread on her coat, the same color as Garrus's colony markings.

"Point Vakarian," he rumbled. "Although, that's not very satisfying, when you just _give _me the shot and then stare at me."

"Well, I had to give you the shot. I didn't have time to bring my weapon up. But if you didn't find it _satisfying…."_ Shepard clutched her stomach and screamed, staggering around a few steps like they always seemed to do on the old cowboy movies Garrus loved so much. She dropped her gun and fell to her knees, scrabbling at Garrus's coat as she fell.

"Tell the boys… I buried the gold in…" Shepard shuddered, made a retching noise, and finally fell dead, sticking her tongue out and everything. A moment later, she was kicking and screaming again. "Take m'boots off, Garrus. Don't tell my momma I died… with m'boots… on…."

Garrus clapped for her, slowly and sarcastically. "Oh, brava. Brava. Are you quite finished?" he asked.

"Just trying to play along," Shep said.

"Come on, first to ten. The barn can be safety, so I can't fake you out again."


	25. Christmas Day

AN: Well, this is the last piece. Thanks for following along with me. Happy Winter Holiday of your choosing. Feel free to leave any comments, and feel free to check out my profile to see what else I've got.

* * *

Christmas Day

"Shep, it's after midnight," Garrus whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Wake up." He couldn't wait any longer. It was Christmas, and he wanted her to open all her presents.

Shepard burrowed further into her pillow, voice muffled. "If you tell me you're waking me up because of tradition…."

"Don't you want to know what your big present is?"

Shep finally pulled her face out of the pillow to look at him. "It wasn't the gun?" she asked suspiciously.

_And sleepily._

He twitched a mandible a little, looking at her sleep-smeared face. How a woman who rarely wore makeup managed to looked smeared in the morning was beyond him.

"Nope. But it's the _last_ present, so you have to open everything else first." He grinned widely.

"You are going to grin your mandibles right _off, _if you don't watch it. Don't be so smug." She shook her head at him, then leaned in to kiss him briefly. "Did the stuff I ordered for you arrive yet? I can't imagine any stores actually being able to do anything while we're still cleaning up after the-"

"No. No Reaper talk. And yes, presents have arrived. Of course they did. St. Nick is never late."

Shep rolled her eyes. "Don't you think we're a little old for Santa?"

"I don't know what you mean. But check the roof, if you don't believe me."

"If you made those poor reindeer walk around on the roof-"

"I did no such thing," Garrus protested. "Those are hoof prints from Santa's reindeer. Now get up. Get some real pajamas on."

"These are real pajamas."

"That's an old T-shirt with holes in it. Here," Garrus said, thrusting a package wrapped in snowflake-covered paper into her hands.

"What's this?"

"That's your first gift. Hurry up, you need to be wearing proper pajamas to open presents."

Shepard shredded through the beautiful paper to find a set of midnight-blue silk pajamas.

"Silk? Really?" she asked.

"It's fine. I just won't touch you in them," Garrus said, indicating his talons. He was fairly certain he could touch her without ruining them, but they had been expensive. He'd rather wait for her to get out of them, just to be sure he didn't end up with nothing but silk ribbons.

"That kinda ruins Christmas," she joked, shrugging into the camisole top. "Ooh, comfy."

"See? They're nice. Quit complaining." He watched her backside as she tried to hop into the matching pants.

"Fine. Then you can't complain if I start dancing and you're not allowed to touch me.

Garrus tried to roll his eyes, one of those oh-so-human gestures that he couldn't quite manage, but insisted on doing anyway. He mostly did it because it made her smile every time. "I've seen you dance, Shep. I think I can resist."

"Really," Shepard said dryly. She got up to leave, then stopped in the doorway, sliding her back down then back up the doorframe, wiggling her backside, and then bending over to flip her hair.

Garrus knew she was watching, waiting for him to answer. He couldn't say anything. Time had frozen. "That," he croaked. He swallowed, tried again to force words out of his suddenly-dry mouth. "That is not how you normally dance," he finally said.

"Well, it's not exactly appropriate at the clubs while I'm the commander, is it?" She looked at him, all wide-eyed innocence, pretending she didn't know what she'd done.

"Take those off right now and get your ass back over here."

Shepard grinned. She loved it when Garrus didn't ask nicely.

#

Some hours later, they finally made it downstairs. Garrus watched as she looked at the pile of wrapped boxes he'd arranged around the tree, Shep pretending to be adult and military and not caring about the presents. He knew better. She was really just a big kid inside, and if you understood that, you understood Shep.

_I think maybe no one but me understands my Shep._

"Did you wrap your own presents?" she asked.

"I left them all in the shipping boxes, don't worry. I have no idea what's in them."

"When did you even do that?"

Garrus chuffed at her, and moved closer so he could wrap his arms around her. "Do you have any idea how much time you've spent sleeping lately? I could have taken a vacation from the vacation and you wouldn't even have noticed. Open a present."

"You open one," she challenged.

"I believe I already got my main present upstairs," he said, and was rewarded with a tiny elbow to the ribs. He sat, still holding her, and settled her into his lap, reaching around her for presents. He handed one to her and started opening one for himself.

Garrus spent the next hour exclaiming over presents, his heart beating faster with each little squeal of surprise she gave. He had picked well, evidently; she hadn't opened any presents she didn't like. He was pleased with his haul, as well; not so much for the presents, but for all the effort she had obviously put into picking things. A stuffed varren, for example, that hearkened back to a joke between them that predated them being a couple. Shepard didn't often do anything romantic or sweet in this way. It was nice seeing she really did feel it, even if she didn't usually demonstrate.

"We're going to do Christmas every year," he whispered to her. The promise was more for himself than for her.

"Not if you're going to lie to me about it. Where's my big present?"

Garrus chuckled at her. "Are you sure? Are you ready for it?"

"Gimme, gimme."

"Close your eyes."

"You close your eyes," she grumbled, but she obediently covered her face with her hands. Garrus waved a hand in front of her face, to be sure she couldn't see. "Keep 'em closed," he told her, chanting it like a mantra as he pulled a new set of armor and her favorite assault rifle from the closet, laying them in front of her silently. "Keep 'em closed. Keep 'em closed."

The armor had been the easy part; he was able to get her measurements from the last time she'd ordered armor. The rifle was difficult. She had had it with her when she charged the Crucible, and he had spent days combing through rubble, before and after visiting hours, looking for the damn thing. Going through rubble after a disaster was a shitty job, but this was her rifle.

"Keep 'em closed," he intoned again, before pressing a few buttons on his omni-tool. Hackett's voice started playing.

"_Dammit, is this Vakarian again? You screwed with her messaging address, didn't you? Well, tell her that Admiral Hackett called, and if she's not too busy, we have something of a pirate problem. Out in the Terminus systems. They seem to think that because we're busy rebuilding, they won't be bothered. She needs to get her ass out there and clean it up. Hackett out."_

Garrus looked to see Shep peeking through her fingers.

"Really?" she asked.

He pointed to the armor on the floor. "Really. It's time."

Shepard barely glanced at the armor before she flew across the room, landing against him and nearly strangling him with her tiny little version of what she called a "bear hug." Garrus held her, wishing it wasn't yet time to go, wishing they could spend just a little bit longer here, relaxing. Recovering. Then he remembered that his bondmate was Commander Shepard, and he told himself they'd always have time _between _missions, when she wasn't busy saving the galaxy.

END


End file.
